


Not What You Want, But What You Need

by Bowm8935



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mentions of kidnapping, Soulmates across multiple lifetimes, Tranquility, autistic!fenris, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: Originated from a prompt on tumblr that quickly grew larger than I expected. This will have four chapters."Person A has given up on love. Nope. Love is not for them. Forget that…. And then they meet person B and think; “Annnd this is the asshole who will ruin everything.”Fenris is living his life as an instructor at a gym, convinced he is meant to be alone for the rest of his life. Then the dreams start, heralding that his life is about to change forever.





	1. A Tevinter-Tinted Dream

> _I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times..._  
>  _In life after life, in age after age, forever._  
>  _My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,_  
>  _That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,_  
>  _In life after life, in age after age, forever._
> 
> _  
> ― Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems_
> 
>  

* * *

 

_The leaves blew across the ground, the oranges, reds and browns a stark contrast to the yet green grass, a sign that fall was in full swing. A few new ones fell as a breeze tugged them off the branches they had been precariously attached to, dropping down to the sides of the couple that was leaning against the tree. Long, pale fingers toyed with dark auburn hair, occasionally brushing against the long, elvhen ears that peeked from underneath the feathered locks._

_It was the oddest sensation; he could feel it as though it were happening to him, the contact with sensitive tips causing shivers to travel through his body and yet he was watching as though he were a separate entity, privy to the private scene playing out in front of him._

_The elf in front shifted his position, plain tan tunic billowing as he leaned back so that his head rested on the shoulder of the human behind him, the ornate robes he wore soft underneath his neck. The pale man smiled and dropped his hands, wrapping them around the torso of the elf and tilting his head to press his nose into the red hair, his own blonde locks falling forward to partially hide them from view._

_Again, he could feel the ghostly feeling of arms around his chest and a light kiss on his head, yet he was not the one experiencing it. He was aware enough to know this was a dream, not a memory; and yet, there was something distinctly familiar about it._

_“Leto,” he heard the human whisper, the soft wind carrying the sound to where he stood. “I don’t want this to end.”_

_“I know, Adalric, I do not desire that either. But I am a slave, and you, a mage. This could never have lasted.”_

_“I love you,” the blonde man insisted, pushing his face further into the auburn tresses and muffling his voice. “We could run away together.”_

_The elf sat forward, turning so that he faced his companion, taking the pale hands into his darker ones. “I do wish that were true, amatus. But it is not so easy to escape one’s fate.” He leaned forward, planting a kiss on the man’s lips, drawing back slowly with a small smile on his face. “I love you as well, and I will find you in the next life; this, I swear.”_

Fenris jolted awake, sitting up with wide eyes as the dream reverberated in his memory. It was something that had been occurring more often as of late, the type of dream that he watched as though he were a mere wisp, and yet he was able to feel what was happening like his skin remembered being touched in such a manner. It was peculiar, to say the least, and not something he enjoyed.

He glanced over at the red light of the clock on his bedside table, frustrated to see the time was 4:24 am. His alarm was set to go off in six minutes, unfortunately. He groaned, tossing the covers off of him and moving to sit up, jabbing the palms of his hands into his eyes to help wipe the remaining sleep away. He stretched as he stood, arms held high over his head and letting out a small moan of relief when he felt a few of his vertebrae pop. He rolled his neck from side to side before standing up and heading to the bathroom to complete his morning routine before heading off to work.

 

* * *

 

Fenris took a large drink of water, wiping the sweat off of his face with the towel hanging around his neck. He made his way down the stairs leading to the basement where the gym he worked at housed a few offices for the staff on duty, passing through the weight room and nodding in greeting at one of his fellow instructors, Carver Hawke. Slipping inside and shutting the door, he plopped gracefully into a chair in front of one of the two desks in the room. His first two yoga sessions in the morning had gone well, and he had just finished up his HIIT class, meaning he was free until his 2:00 pm running for beginners class. Normally he would use this time to run any errands he needed, but as he took stock of how he felt, he made the decision take a quick nap. Last night had been a rough night of sleep, and he still had a few more classes he needed to have energy for.

Mind made, he hurried through the small amount of paperwork he was required to fill to document his day so far, shoving it in his box to complete after his afternoon session. He stepped out of the room, calling out to Carver, “I am going to go take a short nap in the lounge. Would you let anyone who passes through know not to bother me, please?” Carver waved him off in a mildly distracted manner; as he took the few strides to said lounge, Fenris noted that one of the police officers who frequented the gym, a one Cullen Rutherford, ex-military and current captain of the force, was what was taking up all of Carver’s attention. They were having a rather animated conversation, both having stopped their exercises in order to speak. Fenris let a small smirk creep onto his face as he shook his head and stepped into the room, shutting off the lights and heading over to the couch situated in the back. It was old and a rather odd green color, but it was comfortable enough, which was all that he cared about. He grabbed the ratty blanket folded at the end of it and laid down, shifting around until he was on his side comfortably, arm folded at the elbow as a makeshift pillow.

His thoughts drifted back to Carver and Cullen; it was no small secret that they were interested in each other, yet neither seemed in any hurry to do anything about it. Fenris found the dance they performed to be simultaneously amusing and irritating; if it were him, he would have passed this step long ago. But it was not him, was it?

He pulled the blanket closer to his chest, folding slightly more into himself. He had long given up on the prospect of finding love; he was too bitter, too damaged for anyone to love. His past had made sure of that, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not fully shake the damage that had been done. No, anyone he had made an attempt to date had either run off the moment they caught wind of his mental turmoil or tried to play doctor. Interestingly enough, he despised the latter of the two the most. He did not require the aid of a potential partner to “fix him.” What he wanted was someone to accept him, flaws and all. Someone who would be willing to help him move past his problems, but not force him to face them when he wasn’t ready. Someone to hold him when the panic attacks hit, to talk to him softly and bring him back to reality by helping ground him, not someone who would tell him that he was “overreacting” and that it’s “all in his head.” Unfortunately, he had given up all hope of ever finding anyone like that.

He rolled over to face the murky green of the back of the couch, clutching the blanket tightly as he practiced the very breathing techniques he taught in his yoga classes; in slowly, counting to ten, then out, slowly, counting to ten. He did this until he felt the small amount of anxiety that had been starting to well up inside of him dissipate, then just worked on keeping his breathing steadily slow. It didn’t take long before he finally drifted off to sleep.


	2. Dreams of Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for mentions of bullying and kidnapping.

> _Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,_
> 
> _It's ancient tale of being apart or together._  
>  _As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,_  
>  _Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time._  
>  _You become an image of what is remembered forever._
> 
> _― Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems_

 

* * *

 

_"I don't know about this, ma vhenan," the dark-haired elf muttered worriedly. "I have heard that the elves in the city do not live lives we should be envious of."_

_"Hush now, it'll be fine!" chirped his companion, another elf with bright red hair braided down his back. "If our clan won't allow us to be together, then this is our only option. And we simply_ must _remain among the elvhen, if we don't want to become slaves. Strength in numbers, right?" He tugged on the other's hand, pulling him toward the great city gates that proclaimed "Denerim" in large, boldly-written letters.  
_

_They passed unnoticed through the archway, all of the sounds and smells of the large marketplace assaulting their keen senses in a giant cacophony of stimulation. The redhead greeted this with almost palpable excitement, nearly vibrating out of his own skin as he drank it all in with his wide green eyes._

_His partner, however, didn't handle it so well._

_Fenris was again watching from the sidelines as a ghostly apparition, yet he could distinctly feel what the black-haired elf was experiencing. It was an all too-familiar feeling, something that he had dealt with many times when awake. He felt his brain shutting down piece by piece as he became a prisoner in his own paralyzed body. The noise in his ears shifted from sounds of people and animals to a loud ringing that felt like it reverberated all the way to his core. His chest became constricted and it felt nearly impossible to breathe, the anxiety of unlikely suffocation piling on top of an already screaming mind._

_The awestruck elf seemed to notice the distress in his companion instantly, whirling around to look at him with worry etched across his face. "Fáelán?" he asked, placing both hands on his face and looking into dark brown eyes. "Fáelán, can you hear me? Fenedhis!" he spat upon receiving no response, dropping his hands and reaching forward to scoop the other elf up into his arms. "Ir abelas, emma lath. I didn't even think of your condition. I will get us to the place where our kind gathers and find somewhere safe for you to recover. Ar lath ma."_

_"Fenris..." He jumped slightly at hearing his name, glancing around him in confusion. He was vaguely aware of the red-headed elf bounding away from him, but was drawn from following him when his name was said again, a little louder this time. "Fenris!"  
_

A hand was shaking his shoulder, and he turned, squinting up into the blue eyes of Marian Hawke. "Thought I told your brother to tell everyone to stay out," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He rolled over, pushing himself into a sitting position and blinking slowly at her, waiting for her to explain why she woke him. She laughed, though it was much more subdued than normal, pulling back and looking down at him. Not for the first time he found himself frustrated at his general inability to read faces unless they were almost comically obvious, because by the way her mouth tilted down she was either angry or sad but he wasn't completely sure which.

 Finally, she pulled out a chair from the table nearby and slumped into it, resting her head in her hands and alerting him that it was more than likely a form of sadness she was experiencing. "Merrill was in a bad car crash a bit ago," she said haltingly, and he could hear the emotion she was trying to hold back in her voice. "It... it's pretty bad, from what I know. So Isabela left to go be with her."

He tilted his head at her, brow furrowed; he wasn't sure how to respond to her. Granted, he knew enough about social niceties that he could fumble his way through it with minimal destruction, but he also didn't understand why this mattered to _him._ He had never taken a liking to the elf before, and while it was regrettable that any harm had come to her, he did not see why he needed to be concerned overmuch about her now.

As though sensing his confusion, Marian looked back up at him and gave him a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Fenris, I forget that you didn't care much for her sometimes. The reason I'm telling you this is because I wanted to know if you'd be okay with taking over Bela's zumba classes for a week or two. I told her to take off as much time as she needed, but I'd really like to keep them going. You're the only other person here trained for it. You don't have to," she added on quickly, running a hand through her hair. "I just thought I'd ask, see if you were interested. It is extra pay, after all."

He scrunched his lips to the side as he thought, absently picking at the edges of one of his tattoos on his arm. Marian quickly reached out and swatted his hand, and he thanked her for the reminder before returning back to his thoughts, this time making sure to weave his fingers together and place them carefully upon his lap.

He was saving up for a new car, so yes, the extra hours and money would be nice, and he was paid fairly well for zumba. The schedule was opposite his yoga, so on the days he taught two yoga sessions he would have one zumba, and it would be opposite on the other days. There was no crossover, either, so that wouldn't be a problem. No, the main struggle he was having was if he really wanted to stay later than normal and disrupt his evening routine. Given, it was not a completely _necessary_ routine, but it was one he enjoyed and maintained nonetheless. He didn't _think_ it would throw a wrench in anything to variate from it for a couple of weeks, but was he really willing to risk it? After all, if it affected him, it could potentially be pretty bad.

"I will do it, on one condition," he said slowly, tightening his grip on his hands when the familiar itching started up on his arm. Marian sat up straighter, looking at him hopefully as he continued. "If, for some reason, this does not work out well on my end, you will allow me to stop, no questions asked."

"Of course, Fen, of course!" She was nodding quickly, brown hair bouncing at the movement. "I understand your situation, and I wouldn't ask anything different from you. Thank you so much! Does... does tonight work, or is it too late of notice?"

He let out a sigh, inclining his head slightly in agreement while mentally preparing himself for the change in plans for his evening. She gave him another small smile before standing up and thanking him, taking her leave. He checked the clock on the wall for the time- he didn't wear a watch, they never felt right against his skin- and saw that he still had about an hour before his next class. He stood up and stretched, making his way to the showers so that he would be at least mildly presentable to the next group.

 

* * *

 

Fenris stood at the front of the room that was used for any sort of dancing, the walls lined with mirrors. He despised this part of it; he briefly considered asking Marian if they could switch rooms while he taught, because risking catching a look at himself was not high on his list of things he desired. It didn't take much to make him crumble beneath the weight of his appearance; he hated what he had become. There was a time when he had a deep shade of brown hair and lovely, smooth dark skin that made his bright green eyes stand out more; a time when he had been content with the way he looked. Now, he was disgusted. His hair had turned white and had thinned, and he had these ugly tattoos lining his whole body. They itched nearly constantly; the prickling under his skin driving him insane. It wasn't a new sensation, necessarily, he had been prone to scratching himself raw before his skin was embedded with lyrium. But now it was worse, much worse, and he hated the way it felt _wrong_. 

Given the ability to go back in time and change his decisions, he would without a moments hesitation. He never would have quit his job at the nursing home in his hometown, a decision made when he simply could not stand the things both his coworkers and the residents said and did to him. No, now he would grit his teeth and ignore them, knowing that there are worse things in the world than being bullied, and worse people than he had worked with. He never would have answered that ad asking for help that took him to a seedier part of town where he had been knocked out and kidnapped. He would've tried harder to run when he woke up in a strange man's basement rather than listen to his lies and allow himself to hope that this procedure would make him "normal."

Alas, some lessons must be learned the hard way.

The minute hand on the clock hit the hour and he cleared his throat, calling attention to him. He welcomed them to the class, letting them know that their normal instructor would be indisposed for an uncertain amount of time. Turning on the music, he led the group through the warm up stretches and light routine to prepare their muscles for the more strenuous movements later. 

He was about halfway through it when the door to the room burst open, noisily admitting a rather tall man with strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail. "Sorry!" he called out as he hastily dumped his bag and water bottle in the corner with the rest. "Car wouldn't start, but I'm here now!" Without further ado, he jumped into the group, joining into the routine flawlessly. 

Fenris tripped slightly when eyes the color of amber caught his own, the other man's brow knitting together as he looked at the elf, though he didn't say anything. Quickly righting his feet, Fenris turned away from the stare, trying to hide the blush creeping across his face.

 _Kaffas_ , he thought as he switched to a more upbeat dance, doing his best to avoid looking at the newcomer. _I made it years without developing cursed feelings for anyone. Please don't let this be the one to ruin it all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is any of you waffling on about "is he? isn't he?" I want to clear it up- yes, I wrote Fenris as autistic in this. In specific, I wrote him as *my* form of autistic, possessing a lot of *my* traits. He does not represent every person with autism, just similar to me and what I have experienced.
> 
> ~*~  
> Fáelán is an Irish name meaning "young wolf."
> 
> Elvhen translations:   
> ma vhenan - my heart  
> ir abelas, emma lath - I'm sorry, my love  
> ar lath ma - I love you  
> fenedhis - thought to be a swear roughly equivalent to "crap"


	3. Tranquil Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning of imminent tranquility.

> _You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount._  
>  _At the heart of time, love of one for another._  
>  _We have played along side millions of lovers,_  
>  _Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,_  
>  _the distressful tears of farewell,_  
>  _Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever._
> 
> _― Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems_

 

* * *

 

_There was a blonde man sitting at a desk; an enchanter, by the look of the robes he wore. The fact that he even still wore robes bore testament to his beliefs, as the strict control of the Circles was slowly unraveling. One of the first things to change was the mages' dress code- suddenly they could wear what they pleased. The younger generations took advantage of this, of course, but not this man. He wanted to remain invisible to the Templars, and he feared dressing in any other fashion would have the opposite effect._

_He brushed his hair back out of his face, one of the strands having come loose from the bun he had it piled in. He was staring down at a piece of paper with a frown on his face, and Fenris moved closer to look over his shoulder. The writing was not one that he recognized, and yet he understood what it meant innately, somehow- it was an escape plan, detailing how and when to move._

_This mage was planning on escaping the Circle._

_There was the sound of scraping armor, and both the mage and Fenris looked up to see another man enter the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He was clad in the armor of a templar minus the helmet, allowing his brown hair to fall freely to his shoulders, and Fenris expected the mage to flee. Instead, he smiled warmly, standing up to welcome the newcomer with open arms. The templar returned the smile, rushing forward to scoop up the mage into a tight embrace and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. Fenris stepped back, disgust crossing over his face at the blatant display of affection._

_Rules were different in the day and age he lived in, but there was still animosity between mages and templars. He was feeling a little bit confused about the two in front of him- even more so about why he was dreaming of them. This appeared to take place back when the Circles were still more prison than school, and he had the feeling this was a secret rendezvous, possibly (probably) a forbidden one._

_"Are you ready to go?" the templar said quietly, pulling back to look at the mage with a certain softness about his face. "This may be the last chance we have to sneak you out of here."_

_The mage nodded, grabbing the paper he had been looking at and shoving it into one of his pockets. "I am prepared, Andre. Let us go now."_

_The templar - Andre - nodded, placing his hands on the mage's shoulders and directing him in front. "In case we get stopped, I have to make it look like I'm in control. It may get a little rough. If that happens, just know that I'm sorry and I love you, Raulf." When the mage nodded, he pushed him forward gently, heading back to the door. Unlocking it, they slipped through, Fenris following closely behind as they made their way quietly down an abandoned corridor._

_They passed several rooms that were closed off, winding down halls and dodging through shadows until Fenris could no longer tell where they were. Suddenly the couple in front of him halted, turning to each other with twin looks of relief. "We made it," the mage said in awe, looking at a large pair of doors that Fenris assumed led to the outside._

_"Yes," Andre confirmed, placing a gauntlet-clad hand upon his lover's cheek. "Now we just have to run and never look back."_

_Despite his confusion, Fenris felt a smile creeping up on his face as he watched the two head quickly to the door, their freedom waiting on the other side of the heavy wood. It was not often that love prevailed when such large odds were placed against it, and despite his own bitterness about that particular emotion, he found he was inexplicably happy for the couple. He suspected that he may have a connection with one of them if this was like any of his previous dreams, a thread that may be causing him to feel an emotion not entirely his own._

_He didn't mind, this time; happiness was something he rarely felt, so this was a refreshing change of pace._

_Until the dread set in, that was._

_He hadn't yet followed them out the door when the fear washed over him, alerting him that something was wrong. He rushed outside to find them surrounded by templars, caught red-handed attempting to escape. A stocky man paced in front of them, his armor larger, more clean; Fenris suspected him of being the Knight-Captain or, possibly, the Knight-Commander. His hands were clasped behind his back, grey eyes flashing dangerously as he looked upon the two in front of him._

_"I suspected you had allowed this mage to get under your skin," the templar growled lowly, his voice holding multiple layers of disgust. "What I did not expect, however, was for your mind to be so weak and easily corrupted that you would try to sneak him out."_

_"Knight-Commander, please, I-" Andre was silenced when a large palm fell across his face, the metal leaving angry red skin in its wake. Raulf tried to rush forward to him, held back when two templars reached out to latch onto his arms and keep him in place._

_"Silence! I will hear no excuses. You are to be stripped of your rank and title and banished from the templar order. But not until you see what becomes of your precious mage," the Knight-Commander snarled, leaning forward with a smirk as he looked at Raulf. The mage cowered, folding into himself as much as he could._

_Fenris stood stock still as he watched the scene unfold, uncertain how to process the emotions that were swirling within him. Before he could think on it much, however, the picture around him blurred and started to spin, causing him to feel dizzy and nearly fall over. As it was, he dropped to the ground and placed his hands on the cement, closing his eyes and breathing slowly through his nose to try to stem what felt like an oncoming anxiety attack._

_He became aware of sound once more, blinking open his eyes slowly and looking up to see where he was. It was a small stone chamber, from the looks of it; in a dungeon, perhaps. He quickly spotted the Knight-Commander holding an iron in his hands, the end of it red-hot as he approached Raulf, once again held in place by templars despite the fact that he was squirming and attempting to escape. Andre was looking on in horror, also restrained as he tried to reach out to his lover, struggling against his captors valiantly, but to no end._

_"Raulf, I'm so sorry," he sobbed, slumping suddenly in defeat. "Ten years from now... a hundred years from now, someone like you will love someone like me, and there won't be any Templars to tear them apart."_

_Fenris sat back on his heels, an overwhelming nausea creeping up inside of him as the brand came steadily closer to the forehead of the mage. He knew what this was; this was an archaic practice called tranquility, a way to disrupt the mage's connection to the Fade. It had been discontinued centuries ago when it was deemed inhumane, and he had never once thought he'd have to watch one._

_As the hot iron touched Raulf's forehead he screamed, and Fenris doubled over as pain seared across the flesh between his eyes. His cries joined with the mage's and he felt the few emotions in him turn to dust as the brand was pulled away._

He awoke screaming, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. A hand quickly reached up to gingerly touch his forehead, the pain still fresh in his memory. No, there was no mark there, no starburst meant to sever him from the place he went to dream. It had all been one horrifying nightmare.

He let his hand flop back onto the mattress, not bothering to look over at the clock. He was wide awake and still breathing heavily, the pain in his chest increasing as his anxiety continued to peak. Rolling over, he sat up and reached out a shaky hand to the box he kept near his bed as his head became cloudy and his breaths became short and stressed. Opening it, he closed his eyes and placed his feet firmly on the ground, focusing on the feel of it beneath his naked soles. The carpet was soft, the bristles tickling slightly on sensitive, bare skin, and he stretched his toes to gather some of it between them, rubbing it together. Reaching into the box, he pulled out a necklace that had belonged to his mother and rubbed it between his fingers, the tactile sensation a pleasing one. He focused on his breathing, working to lengthen and even it out, chanting the names of the characters from his most beloved book series under his breath to help bring him back to reality.

Well. There was no going back to sleep now. Once he had managed to effectively ground himself, he replaced the necklace carefully in the box, shutting it and placing it back on the shelf. Dragging a hand down his face, he let out a loud groan; he was not appreciative of these realistic dreams disrupting his sleep as they had been. He questioned what had even triggered their appearance; he had been subject to the weird dreams that he considered normal for most of his life up until a few weeks ago when suddenly these intruded upon him. Always, they centered around a couple in love, though there were always different elements surrounding them; sometimes they were the same race, sometimes not. Sometimes they were the same sex, sometimes not. They were always in different parts of history and Thedas, never appearing in the same time or place twice. But what tied them together was the love they felt toward each other, some nonsensical thing that seemed to transcend all of time itself; for as much as it seemed illogical, Fenris got the distinct feeling the two always possessed the same souls. It was a note of confusing interest that he always seemed to identify with one of them, as well.

He refused to dwell on the implications of that, instead disregarding it as some silly desire to fall in love. Perhaps it had something to do with the man in the zumba class; he had taught a few of them now, and every session he had a hard time keeping his eyes off of him. He moved freely, so beautifully that it was almost like watching... something beautiful. Fenris never was too good with the poetic side of things, but that didn't stop him from watching the light glint off of the strawberry blonde hair that looked soft, and he wondered how it'd feel to run his fingers through it.

Ah. Cursed feelings, again. It was time for a distraction. Something like... his morning routine. Yes, maybe he was starting it a bit early, but it would require his whole attention and that was what he needed. He could figure out how to dispose of this... desire... later, when he was not still shaking from the aftereffects of a nightmare-induced anxiety attack.

 

* * *

 

 

He had managed to get through another zumba class without giving in to the urge to touch the hair. He ran his fingernails across his thumb to provide the sensory input his skin wanted as he dismissed the group, turning to start putting away the small amount of equipment he used. He stood still for a moment as he continued to work his fingers, wanting to relieve the desperate compulsion he was feeling before touching anything else. It wasn't particularly working.

"So how long do we get to keep you as the instructor?" came a voice from behind him, and Fenris jumped slightly, turning around to find himself face-to-face with the man possessing the hair he wanted nothing more than to touch. _Great,_ he thought, digging his nails even harder into his thumbs as he locked his eyes on a point in between the man's eyes. _Bring the temptation closer to me. Test my willpower._

"I will be teaching until whenever Isabela returns," he answered carefully, too aware of the slight delay in his speech. He usually didn't care about such things, but this annoying man in front of him brought to life all the feelings he had worked so hard to forget, feelings he never wanted to have again. "At that point she will return to class, and I will no longer be needed."

"Well, that's a shame," the man said, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him. "I rather enjoy watching you dance."

"Ahhh," Fenris said, furrowing his brows as he tried to figure out how to respond. "Thanks, I guess."

"Anders, leave the poor elf alone!" came the light voice of Marian. She was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile on her face as she watched the two. "Your charms don't work on everybody, you know."

Anders placed a hand on his chest dramatically, closing his eyes as a distressed look crossed his face. Fenris tilted his head to the side, crumpling his nose as he tried to figure out why he was making his emotion so obvious. It had to be obvious, for him to know what it was.

"You wound me, my dear lady! I was simply asking how much longer I'd have the pleasure of such a handsome man leading our group, nothing more." Fenris blushed at the compliment, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he felt awkwardness rising up inside of him, unsure how to respond to such a thing. It didn't help that he could tell the man was using a semi-joking tone, and he wasn't sure if he was being sincere or not. Blasted inability to read emotion.

"Yes, well, take your 'questions' and bother someone who's not one of my employees," she teased back, pushing away from the wall to walk over to them. "I need to speak with him and you're taking up precious time." Anders gave her a low bow, winking at Fenris as he lazily picked up his bag and sauntered from the room. Fenris watched him go, eyebrows knitted together with a look of bafflement upon his face. He flinched when Marian nudged him gently in the side, glancing over to see her grinning at him. "He likes you," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, waggling her brows at him.

Blinking in confusion, he glanced back at the door the man had walked out of before turning back to her. "I am an adequate enough teacher to gain his approval, I suppose," he said slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets in his shorts. He knew he was a good dancer, and leading a small class such as this came naturally to him, so it didn't necessarily come as a surprise that he would approved of.

"You know what I mean," she teased, smirking at him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, not understanding why she was teasing him. It seemed to finally sink in that he really _didn't_ know what she meant, because her face fell slightly as she surveyed him closely. "Or not... Fenris, he was flirting with you."

Fenris recoiled from the statement, raising his arms up in front of him as though to fend off an attack. "No, no he wasn't," he argued, though his mind was whirring through the small exchange and picking at it to try to find some truth in her statement. He never had been good at the intricacies of something as nuanced as flirting, so it was no real surprise if he missed the cues.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him with some frustration. "Yes, he was. I know Anders, and I know his normal flirtations from his 'I'm interested in you' flirt, and this was definitely that. He's a nice guy; you should go out with him."

"I... what?" He was so flustered by this point that he was starting to rock a bit, rolling from his heels to his toes and back again as he tried to completely process what she was saying. "No, I- I do not date. Anyone. Ever."

Her mouth twitched as she looked at him, and he could see the effort it was taking for her to hold back from touching him; he appreciated it. He had never once told her about any of his afflictions, but knew that she was intuitive enough to figure much of it out herself. This was one of those times that he knew she understood as much as she was able, and that he was reminded how much she really did care for him. "Fen, I know you've had bad experiences in the past, but Anders- he is different. Even if things didn't work out, he would only ever treat you with respect. I really think this would be good for you," she said softly, reaching out to him before thinking better of it and closing her fingers, pulling the hand back to her chest slowly. "Please. We can have dinner at my house some night, then it won't be just the two of you. So you can scope him out, see if I'm right. I can see that you like him, too. Could it really be so bad?"

 _Yes,_ he thought, though he didn't voice it out loud. Curling his toes in an effort to make himself unable to rock, he reached a hand up to run it through his hair, tugging gently on the ends as he moved though. He really didn't want to disappoint his one true friend, and she seemed convinced this was what he needed. Maybe it was? He didn't know, oftentimes he wasn't sure what he needed. It wouldn't be the first time she had stepped in to push him in the direction he needed to go, and he doubted it would be the last.

Well, may as well trust her. She had never given him any reason to doubt her. "Fine. One time. Dinner at your house. But I need time to prepare myself. Give me a week?"

She nodded, a smile bursting forth on her face as she clapped her hands together in front of her. "Oh, I promise you won't regret this!"

He sure hoped not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are French names, as I meant to have this dream take place in Orlais  
> Raulf means "wise wolf"  
> Andre means "manly"


	4. The Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I said 4 chapters. I've extended it to 5. Sorry!

>   _Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you_  
>  _The love of all man's days both past and forever:_  
>  _Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life._  
>  _The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -_  
>  _And the songs of every poet past and forever._
> 
> ― _Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems_

 

* * *

 

 

His hair would not lay right. No matter how much Fenris tugged and prodded and brushed it, it remained poking out in random places, feathered as always. He couldn't use any sort of gel or hairspray to help the issue because of how the texture bothered him, so he was left looking like a half-combed hobo, much to his distress.

He had spent the better part of the last week mentally preparing himself for what was sure to be a stressful evening; not only was it about as far out of his routine as it could be, it was also the night he was supposed to officially "meet" Anders. Marian had been peppering him with questions and reassurances that this would go well, but he was wary nonetheless. His experience in the romantic field was far from good and he had no real reason to expect this to be any different.

He picked at the tattoos on his chin absentmindedly a bit before realizing what he was doing, quickly removing his hands and placing them in the pockets of the black jeans he had donned for the dinner. He had paired them with a black shirt, naturally preferring to wear dark colors. He hadn't thought to ask if there was to be any sort of dress code, and he hoped that he'd be fine in his usual wear.

He gave up on his looks, deciding there was nothing more he could do and instead headed to his door. He slid on his tennis shoes and grabbed his light leather jacket, slipping out into the cool night air and walking to his car. To be fair, it wasn't usually his hair or his tattoos that drove people away, so he knew he shouldn't be so concerned about how they appear. Anders had initially approached _him_ , after all, so he couldn't be too put off by how he looked. Whether or not he could handle the mess he was mentally remained to be seen.

The short ride over to Marian's house was uneventful and before he knew it, he was standing on her doorstep, fidgeting as he waited for her to answer to door. He ran a hand through his hair at the last minute, tugging at it to try to get it to lay flat in a last attempt at taming the wild locks. The sound of a car door behind him caused him to cast a glance over his shoulder, and he was surprised and a little nervous to see that Anders was walking toward him, a lazy smile on his face.

"Fenris!" Anders called out, his long legs carrying him to Fenris' side at a rate much faster than Fenris would have preferred. "Glad to see you could make it." He stopped at the base of the few steps Fenris was on, still slightly taller than the elf despite Fenris being elevated. His amber eyes were warm as he gazed down into Fenris' green, his smile softening. He had his hair pulled halfway back, the lower layers free to brush the tops of his shoulders in loose waves.

Fenris clenched his fists, resisting the urge to reach up and tangle his fingers into the locks that looked so soft. "Hello, Anders," he managed out, surprised at how even his voice sounded. He averted his eyes slightly to the side, relieved when the door behind him creaked open to reveal Marian's twin, Garrett, smirking at the pair.

"Get in here, you two," he laughed, stepping to the side as Fenris rushed past him, followed closely by Anders.

Fenris had only been to the Hawke house a few times, usually declining invitations as politely as possible. He knew the elder twins were well-known around Kirkwall, and their celebrations were usually large and boisterous. His own social anxiety generally dictated that he avoided large events if at all possible, and, thankfully, Marian never pressed the issue or became upset. He was familiar enough with the layout to find his way to the dining room well enough, relieved to see that the only other attendees were the younger twins, Carver and Bethany, their dates, and two people he assumed were with Marian or Garrett. While it was still a larger group than he would have preferred, it was something he could work with; he knew the majority of them, which was a start. He nodded vaguely in the direction of the others before hastily taking the nearest empty seat to him.

The dinner itself passed quick enough; Marian introduced everyone to each other (he was gratified to find out that Anders also didn't know everyone- at least he was not alone) before bringing out the pizza she had ordered. It may not have been what he expected, but it was welcome enough- she had made sure to order plain cheese for him, and he devoured many slices before feeling full.

They retired to her sitting room after, the group deciding to play a game of charades over a couple of drinks. Fenris gratefully took the wine offered him, sipping it as he watched Anders try to act out an animal in front of him. He was crouched on the floor in a rather ridiculous manner, his long limbs bent as he kept one palm on the ground in between his feet, the other held up as he pretended to lick it and then groom his head. Fenris raised an eyebrow in amusement, looking around at his teammates- Carver, Cullen, and Bethany's boyfriend Sebastian- to see if any of them knew what Anders was pretending to be. It was a moot point, it seemed, as Carver and Cullen were engaged in low conversation, Carver chuckling as Cullen blushed, and Sebastian was busy making puppy eyes at Bethany. The answer was glaringly obvious to Fenris, and had been since the beginning. He took a sip of his wine as he called out "cat" in a bored tone, Anders quickly moving on to the next thing. He jumped up, dangling his arms at his side and making a quiet whooping noise.

"Monkey," Fenris again answered, taking another drink when the timer went off. Anders plopped on the couch next to him, reaching forward to grab his own hard cider.

"Has anyone ever told you how good you are at this game?" Anders inquired, leaning back and crossing his legs in front of him. "You seem to be good at a lot of things. I wonder what _else_ you're good at." He smirked as Fenris choked on his wine, eyes bulging at the overt meaning behind his words.

"I-I..." Fenris stammered, unable to form a good response. At this point, he was very well aware that he was being flirted with; Anders had made it a point to be extremely obvious. He supposed he should respond, in kind, yet he had no idea what to say or do. Anders seemed to be happy enough with the red Fenris felt creeping across his cheeks, a pleased smile lifting the sides of his lips. A hand grazed his shoulder, causing Fenris to turn an even deeper shade of crimson as images flashed unbeckoned before his eyes.

"I-I think I should go," he stuttered, standing up abruptly and interrupting the game. He stumbled out of the room quickly when all eyes turned to him, vaguely mumbling goodbyes as he made his way quickly to the door.

He had never been one to enjoy a lot of touch, the supposed simple thing easily causing him to become overstimulated. But that was not why he was running to his car despite hearing his name called.

He was running from what he had seen when Anders' hand had softly touched him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the delay in this, and any of my other works. It's been crazy over here in addition to the fact that I've started a new DA2 playthrough and I've been suffering severe writer's block. Soooo none of my writing has proceeded the way I'd like.


	5. Soulmates?

Anders stood in front of the door to the small house, fist raised as though he were about to knock. He had frozen once he had arrived, unsure if this was the best course of action. He had a vague idea of what troubles Fenris faced, both in general and in specific as to any relationship involving them, but wasn't sure it was his place to yet offer help. Or even if Fenris _wanted_ any help.

Many years of volunteering his services as a pediatrician in the free clinic in Darktown had given him a keen eye for certain types of symptoms that, when added together, could indicate a type of invisible illness. He saw scores of children yearly who's parents were unable to take them to either of the large hospitals in Hightown or Lowtown, whether it be due to lack of insurance, money or simply the inability to gain an appointment. He was able to either give them a diagnosis or a referral to where they needed to go next, along with advice and/or loopholes to help them along their way. He had referred enough children with similar characteristics to be fairly certain as to what he was dealing with.

Not to mention the dreams.

Anders had thought that it was some sort of joke when they began. He had heard the myth of soulmates, of course, what child didn't grow up on those fairytales? But to have it play out in his life, to have it invade his sleep as well as his every waking moment? It was preposterous. So he had assumed one of his friends had pranked him, perhaps slipped a type of love potion he wasn't aware of in a drink when he wasn't looking, and went about his business.

Yet they persisted, not plaguing him every night, but multiple times a week. It began as snippets, pieces of times long ago and slowly morphed into full memories, sometimes depicting days or years at a time.

And every time, he knew it was the same two people in them: him, and Fenris.

His connection to the Fade helped him identify their bond right away. The first day he had went to zumba and found the handsome elf traipsing lithely at the front of the class, he had felt it when their eyes locked. At first he thought Fenris had felt it too; the haste in which he had looked away had seemed to indicate as such. But as he continued to go to class, it became increasingly evident that was _not_ the case. That was when Anders began to pay attention to the little tics the man had, all seemingly innocuous on their own but when combined, they pointed toward something more.

Well, no better time than the present. He sucked in a breath, rapping the door three times in quick succession before dropping his hand to his side, trying not to let his nerves show as he waited.

Fenris answered faster than he expected, the door opening slowly as the elf peered out, eyes wide when they landed upon Anders. "Uh, A-Anders," he stammered in that low, gravely voice that made Anders shiver in delight whenever he heard it. "I-I'm not sure that now's a g-good time."

"Let me help," Anders blurted out, placing a hand on the door as Fenris started to close it, halting its progress lightly. "Please, I think I can help," he said softly, giving Fenris a weak smile.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at him, causing Anders' smile to falter. He dropped his hand and took a step back, waiting for the dismissal he felt was inevitable at this point. He was surprised when Fenris spoke again, in barely more than a whisper.

"What makes you think you can help?"

Anders snapped his eyes up to look into the deep green ones, taken aback when he noticed that Fenris was steadily holding his gaze, even if he was fidgeting while doing so. "I know a spell that can help soothe overstimulated nerves, but we don't have to use that," he added hastily upon noticing Fenris' obvious flinch at the idea. "I mean, depending on what's wrong at the moment, I can help ground you, I know ways to do that both with and without touching, if you'd like someone with you. Or I've heard that people in, um, our _situation_ are more adept at calming each other, especially through touch? I mean, it's worth a try, if you'd like..." He was rambling. He knew he was, and he let himself trail off, looking down at the ground and kicking a foot softly against the doorstep as the silence rang out loudly between them.

There was a slight shuffling noise from in front of him, and he looked up to see that Fenris had backed up, the door now fully open as he beckoned him in, eyes turned to the ceiling. Anders felt the sides of his mouth turn up in relief as he stepped inside, sliding his shoes off with the meticulously lined up pairs next to the door. The door snapped shut and Fenris squeezed around him, moving in quick strides down the hallway. Anders hastened to follow, finding himself in a small sitting room that was very simply decorated in neutral colors. Fenris indicated for him to take a seat, and Anders gingerly picked to sit on a soft tan couch.

Much to his surprise, Fenris chose to sit next to him, albeit out of arms reach. His eyes were drawn to dark hands, where fingers were currently running across thumbs; something Anders had seen him do before when particularly nervous (or so he thought, though he had no way to be absolutely sure of the reasoning behind it).

"What did you mean, when you said 'people in our situation'?" Fenris asked, head tilted down so that feathered white hair covered his eyes. It looked so soft, and Anders wanted to reach forward and brush it out of his eyes. Would he be receptive to such a thing? He wasn't sure. Especially since he had bolted last time Anders had touched him.

Not that Anders blamed him for running. If he hadn't figured it out before then, he probably would have been spooked as well. It's one thing to experience dreams in the dead of night, when one could blame the spirits of the Fade for toying with one's deepest desires, but another entirely to have something as simple as touch cause the images to flash unbidden before one's eyes.

Deciding to take a chance, he reached out and gently brushed back Fenris' hair out of his face, causing the man to look over at him in shock. "You've been dreaming about a couple, right?" Fenris nodded, eyes wide as he gazed at him. "Do you know much of soulmates?" This time he was answered with a hesitant shake of the head. "Yeah, I... I don't know what kind of stories you were told growing up. But in the orphanage where I was, we fixated on fairytales. Anything to allow us to hope there was a better life for us out there. Some of the older stories told of soulmates. It's based on the theory that when the Maker made us, he split our souls in two, placing one half in ourselves, and the other half in the person he intended us to be with. Thedas is too big for everyone to find theirs, but every now and again, people are lucky, and... and you find your other half. It's corny, I know, but... I think," Anders paused, taking a deep breath before plunging on. "I think that's...that's what we are. Soulmates."

 

* * *

 

 

Fenris felt a panicked feeling rising in his chest. Was this man insane? _Soulmates?_ While the idea in and of itself was rather romantic, it was also downright crazy. He could tell Anders was serious by the solemn look on his face, and he scooted away a little bit.

"Fenris?"

He heard his name being asked, but he had already been nearing the edge of an anxiety attack _before_ Anders had shown up, and this seemed to be the icing on the cake. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes, trying to tune out the rest of the world before it morphed into something more insidious.

Kaffas. He didn't have the necklace out here, and he wasn't sure that he had anything nearby that would work in its place.

"Fenris, what can I do to help?" The voice was close, and he felt warmth radiating off the man who had moved closer to him. A hand was placed gently upon his arm, waves of soothing energy rippling out from the touch. Fenris froze in surprise, not used to comfort coming from another touching him.

"I need to ground myself, but my usual object for tactile stimulation is not out here," he managed to respond, running a finger across the couch cushion as a test. No, too soft.

"Where is it? I'll go get it," Anders responded, and Fenris felt him shift to move away, the hand starting to lift off his skin.

"No!" he croaked, slamming his hand down on top of Anders', keeping it in place. "No, I... this, whatever you are doing, it is helping." He blinked open his eyes slowly, turning to look at Anders even as he felt like he was suffocating. His gaze was drawn to the strawberry blonde hair, a lock dangling in front of Anders' eyes. His fingers itched to touch it, and he wondered if maybe, _maybe_ , he could use it as a replacement. "Can I touch...?" he started, trailing off as it became harder to breath.

"Yes! Touch whatever you need, please, as long as it helps." There was a note of pleading in Anders' voice, and Fenris felt as he squeezed his arm slightly. "And this is what I meant, by being able to help with touch..."

Fenris didn't wait for him to finish, swiftly turning and climbing into the other man's lap and threading both of his hands into the soft hair. He gently rubbed the strands between his fingers, taking deep breaths in and out, eyes closed as he focused on the feel of the couch against his feet where his legs dangled, the hair against his hands. His skin tingled wherever it came into contact with Anders, the calming energy spreading through him in slow waves, quickening the process significantly.

It took nearly no time at all once he had situated himself there, the anxiety dissipating quickly. He chewed on the inside of his cheek when he fully comprehended what he had done and where he was, feeling Anders' every movement beneath him. He continued to play with the hair, although his movements changed; he was no longer simply rubbing the strands, he was now running his fingers through it slowly, tracing fingers lightly against the skin underneath. He heard Anders' breath catch underneath of him, and he shifted, straddling him and opening his eyes. Anders had shut his own and had his mouth hanging open, pushing his head back into Fenris' hands.

He remembered what he saw at Marian's, and considered it as he gazed at Anders, marveling in how handsome he was. All of his dreams had been of the past, different people connected in a way he could not logically explain, but the vision that tumbled before him then had been of him and Anders. Of a future, together. And it had felt eerily the same as the dreams, and he had fled in fear of the unknown, of the inexplicable.

Was the idea of soulmates really so strange? Now that his mind was clear again, he could poke at it in his head. He mulled it over, massaging Anders' scalp slowly and trying to determine if he could feel some sort of connection to him. He dug deep, deep into the parts of him he didn't understand.

And there it was, a string, a small thread of hope that when mentally plucked at, it vibrated through his core and out. He instinctively knew that it led to Anders.

Impulsively, he leaned down to plant a kiss on soft lips, surprised at his own brashness. He felt Anders stiffen underneath of him for a moment before the kiss was returned, hands finding their way upon his hips to pull him closer yet.

It was strange that he could be this close to someone, especially someone this new to him, and feel so comfortable. As Anders tugged him to the point where their chests were nearly touching, he felt like his heart would burst from sudden fullness. He'd never felt anything like this before.

When they parted, Anders was smiling up at him, placing a hand on his cheek. "So you feel it too?" he asked softly, eyes searching Fenris'.

Unable to speak, Fenris simply nodded, the sides of his mouth quirking up.

"Good," Anders replied, leaning in to kiss him again.

Fenris stopped him by placing a finger to his lips, clearing his throat and willing his voice to work. "You... are willing to be with me? Even with all of my flaws? All of my...problems?" It was almost too much to hope for, that someone would be willing to put up with him as he was.

Anders let out a sigh, leaning back a bit as he rubbed his thumb across Fenris' cheek. The soothing feeling was still there, following the movement, and Fenris found himself leaning into the touch. "Fenris," Anders started, and Fenris let his gaze fall back on his face. "I don't know what you think is wrong with you, but I assure you, there is nothing on this planet that will keep me from you... if you'll have me."

Fenris chuckled, the memories of past lives playing through his mind as he smiled down at him. "I believe you already know the answer to that. Time and time again, we have been drawn together. I do not understand how this is possible, but neither will I deny what is surely meant to be. I am yours."

A large smile broke out across Anders' face at the answer, Fenris returning it immediately. "Then, can I... can I kiss you?" Anders asked, looking up at him with an expression Fenris assumed was hopeful.

"Yes," he answered, inclining his head in permission. "You may kiss me."

As he reveled in the feeling of lips brushing against lips, he silently thanked Marian. He had not wanted a relationship, true, but it appeared that, once again, she pointed him toward what he truly needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to resist the urge to write "AND THEN THEY KISSED" at the end, because for some reason I really wanted to.
> 
> ANYWAY. If any of you would be willing to provide some feedback on the whole autistic!fenris idea? Here or on tumblr (StarlingHawke) if you'd rather do it anonymously. Just curious if anyone liked it, if you'd be interested in reading something similar in the future, if there's any characters that you'd like to see written that way, etc. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
